Balkans'-eye view of war from Bay

Published 4:00 am, Sunday, April 11, 1999

1999-04-11 04:00:00 PDT KOSOVO, YUGOSLAVIA; SAN FRANCISCO BAY AREA; UNITED STATES -- The problems are so far away, yet so close to the heart.

Bay Area residents from Yugoslavia and its former republics say they don't judge people based on their nationality, religion or geographic region where they were born. Here, as in their native country, they have friends of other groups, many say.

But it's difficult for some to overcome their feelings of rage borne of years of conflict - the most recent of which is centered in Kosovo, the southern portion of Serbia.

Zana Ibrani, 46, is an English instructor at Las Positas College in Livermore; she was born in Kosovo and now lives in Pleasanton. She is an ethnic Albanian - a member of the group that is being forced out of Kosovo by the hundreds of thousands by Yugoslav President Slobodan Milosevic.

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Ibrani was one of six Bay Area residents - three ethnic Albanians, three Serbs - who met for a panel discussion on the situation in Yugoslavia for this Examiner / KTVU Channel 2 report.

One thing they all agreed on: Milosevic is the cause of many of the problems - and he must go.

Hatred from top down&lt;

The hatred "is coming definitely from the top down, it is not coming from the grass-roots up," said Milorad Golubovich, 68, a Serb who grew up in Sarajevo and lives in Menlo Park.

Unfortunately, Golubovich said, the bombing of Belgrade has bound Serbs to their dictatorial leader like nothing else could have.

"People who used to hate Milosevic are now standing around him," he said.

The question, said Ron Radakovich, is, "How do we get the United States government to stop supporting him and propping him up at every turn?"

Radakovich, 63, of Walnut Creek, has family from both Croatia and Bosnia - though ethnically he's 100 percent Serb, he said.

Since the civil wars began in 1991, some of his Bay Area friendships with people of other groups have cooled, Radakovich said.

"We don't see each other as often," he said.

"Obviously, what has happened is a factor."

His church, Holy Trinity Serbian Orthodox in Moraga, used to host a Croatian orchestra for cultural events - but no more, Radakovich said.

"I think we don't want to embarrass them because we might have one or two hotheads who might say, "Why are you here?' or something like that," he said.

Leaders blamed&lt;

When it comes to the conflicts in Yugoslavia, emotions run high. The Serbs say they are the ones who fought against Hitler and the Nazi-aligned Croats in World War II, and now they are being demonized. The people of Kosovo watch the news and look for familiar faces among the throngs of desperate refugees forced by Serbia to flee from their homes.

Earlier this decade, Croats and Bosnian Muslims were

"ethnically cleansed" from their towns by nationalist Serbs, but both groups did "cleansing" of their own against Serbs in Bosnia and Croatia, according to the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees.

Even if the conflicts were sparked by hateful leaders - as many from the former Yugoslavia believe - it can be difficult to feel love toward your neighbors, they say.

Enver, a 34-year-old ethnic Albanian from Kosovo who did not want his last name used, said that even if he met a wonderful Serbian woman, he can't see marrying her.

It would be as if "yesterday they were killing my family and doing all those terrible things, and now I marry one of them," said the Concord resident. It would feel too awkward, he said.

Though many different ethnic groups lived in close proximity in the Communist era of Yugoslavia, those who emigrate here tend to stick with their own people, said Mirjana Samardzija, a native of Belgrade, who lives in San Francisco.

"In most big cities (in the U.S.), the communities are separate," she said. And since the wars began in 1991, she added, relationships among the groups have not been good.

But some have been able to overcome the conflicts.

Mila Ostojic, 36, is a product of a "mixed marriage" - her mother is a Montenegrin Muslim, her father a Serb. Back home, she has many friends of different backgrounds. She doesn't feel animosity toward anyone, despite the historic struggles among Muslims, Serbs, Croats and now Albanians, she said.

"It wouldn't have happened in this century if it weren't for these nationalistic leaders who just wanted power," said Ostojic, who lives in Redwood City. "People absolutely lived together and married and went to each other's weddings. Nobody ever asked anyone what nationality they were."

Nada Miljkovic, a Macedonian, and her husband, Budimir, a Serb, met in Belgrade and married in 1982 - when Yugoslavia was all one country and people didn't think about whether they came from different parts.

Macedonia was one of the republics that broke away from Yugoslavia between 1991 and 1992. "It is a big issue only in the last few years, when all these atrocities started," said Miljkovic, 44, an electronics technologist who lives in Lafayette.

"Before, (ethnicity) was a question that never occurred to us."

Despite the recent conflicts, Miljkovic said her church, Holy Trinity Serbian Orthodox of Moraga, welcomes non-Serbs who take part in their services and attend cultural events. "As long as you come to us, you're our friend, and we accept you."

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